


Something Untoward

by polysyndeta



Series: Triumvirate [5]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Double Anal Penetration, Fix-It, M/M, Prompt Fill, Prostitution Roleplay, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polysyndeta/pseuds/polysyndeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t never say nothin’, Harry,” Eggsy mumbles once the blankets are drawn and the lights out.</p><p>“I’m too tired to untangle your double negatives,” Harry grouses, a transparent diversionary tactic if ever there was one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Untoward

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #1: _This fandom needs more dirty talk. Both of the filthy, slightly humiliating kind, and of the adoring praise kink kind. Both work for me. Can be Harry/Merlin/Eggsy or just any two of them together._
> 
> Prompt #2: _Merlin and Harry double penetrate Eggsy_

Galahad has a filthy mouth.

Rather, he has the mouth that the mission demands.

He’s been the anxious, careworn businessman at the bar, twisting a thick gold band around his finger, waiting for the young woman at the other end of the bar to stalk over and buy him a shot of vodka. (Hacker for hire, a positive mine of information on the laptop in her hotel room, requires hard-wiring. Has a liking for other people’s things that extends beyond data.) With her he’s broken, arching and wrecked: _Oh God, I’ve never - you really shouldn’t - oh sweet embuggered **Christ** , do that again - _

He’s the confident, sharp-dressed gent at the restaurant with a six-month waiting list, wining and dining an international arms trafficker who just flew into London yesterday, murmuring _well, we could go back to the bar for a nightcap, but their whiskeys are simply dismal and I’d much rather go back to your hotel and stuff my arse with your cock_.

Certain missions make yet more niche demands. Galahad submits ( _f-four, madam, may I have another?_ ) and dominates ( _very good, boy, now roll over and show me your cunt_ ); he speaks the language of sex as well as he reads and writes it. And of course, incidentally, he can be _thoroughly_ fucked in five languages. (Heavy petting in fifteen.)

Galahad is fluent.

Harry Hart rubs a slick finger against the stretch of Eggsy’s arsehole, teasing it into the space already filled with Merlin’s prick, and he says nothing.

Eggsy’s already come once, gasping in pleasure and shock alike as Harry coaxed an orgasm out of him: two fingertips relentless against his prostate while Merlin held his hands and absolutely nobody touched his cock. His skin gleams with sweat; his hair is everywhere; Harry knows that his belly is crusted with dried semen even though he can’t see it. 

He puts his free hand to Eggsy’s left arse cheek, slowly pushes him up until his body is barely clinging to the thick head of Merlin’s cock, then eases in his finger alongside as he draws him back down. He can feel the throb of Merlin’s pulse, the tight press of constricting muscle against hard flesh. 

“ _Ffffffuck,_ ” Eggsy gasps, drawing out the fricative for days. “Harry, that’s - fuckin’ - Jesus - “

“Like that, do you?” Merlin’s voice gets low and somehow _more Scottish_ when he’s turned on. It’s a wonder to behold. 

“Yeah - yeah, I like it, _shit._ Don’t stop.”

“Oh, we won’t. Will we, Harry?”

Harry shakes his head mutely. Eggsy _whimpers_ when his body swallows his second knuckle. 

“We won’t stop,” Merlin purrs. Harry watches over Eggsy’s shoulder as Merlin drags his thumb up the underside of his cock and teases the sensitive bridge of skin between the shaft and the dripping head. “You just let us take care o’you, aye? Greedy little brat. You can take it.”

“ _Fuck_ yes I can take it. Didn’t think - “ He stutters to a halt, and Harry knows he’s betraying the bravado he displayed when he first asked for this. “ _So_ fuckin’ good, _Christ._ ”

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks, watching in something like awe when Eggsy swallows him up until there’s nothing more to take. 

“Bit. Fuckin’ amazing, though. Can’t wait ‘til it’s your cock, Harry.”

The way his hand twitches runs through both his lovers, making Eggsy squirm and Merlin groan.

“We agreed - “

“I know, I fuckin’ _know_ Harry, not this time, just - ah, _shit_. You dirty bastards’re gonna wreck me.”

“And which dirty bastard woke up this morning and decided he could take us both at the same time?” Merlin says, managing to sound preposterously _arch_ when Harry can feel the pulse in his cock. 

“Dunno, but you should definitely give ‘im another finger. Yeah, Harry?”

“Yes.”

They bring Eggsy to a squirming, whimpering orgasm as he rides Merlin’s prick and Harry’s two fingers, his breath catching as Harry’s thumb snags gently at his stretched arsehole. Once Merlin’s come and they’re both boneless beneath him, Harry slicks his cock with KY and ruts between Eggsy’s trembling thighs until he’s breathing harsh and loud, spending himself across his lovers’ stomachs. 

Merlin extricates himself and cleans them up. (Harry has taken to buying his wet wipes online since they went to Boots with Eggsy’s little sister in tow; he took out his wallet to cover the purchase and the cashier said something sweet-natured but mortifying about his being a responsible grandfather.)

“You don’t never say nothin’, Harry,” Eggsy mumbles once the blankets are drawn and the lights out.

“I’m too tired to untangle your double negatives,” Harry grouses, a transparent diversionary tactic if ever there was one.

“You know what I mean. In bed. You don’t talk.”

“I talk.”

“Nah, you say stuff. You don't - _talk_. Not like how Merlin talks.”

“At last, my conduct is exemplary. I’ll have to call my mother.”

Harry ignores him. “I’m just not naturally inclined that way. Does it bother you, Eggsy?”

“Don’t _bovver_ me. It’d just be hot as fuck, yeah? If you did.”

Harry permits himself a moment of silent contemplation. The problem is that he _is_ inclined that way, somewhat, and every moment they spend undressed is a moment he spends biting his tongue. Part of him is hoping that Merlin might interject, offer the explanation they both know to be true, but the man is frustratingly silent. 

"I...worry that my mouth might run away with me," he admits at last. "That I might say something untoward. I wouldn't want to sound disrespectful."

"You do this shit with Merlin too?" Eggsy asks, the frown audible in the dark, and it _would_ be the start of another argument about the inherent power imbalance in their relationship, but then:

"Yes. He does this shit with me too."

"Oh." He sounds somewhat mollified. "What about people you fuck on the job? And don't give me that 'don't kiss and tell' bollocks."

"Galahad lacks my emotional investment in his partners."

Eggsy's quiet for a moment, and Harry knows he's trying to navigate what an _emotional investment_ might amount to. And possibly marvelling at how fucked up it is that he's referring to his own codename in the third person. Eventually he seems to decide that it's a subject more safe to neglect than prod at.

"...for a super spy, you're a fuckin' idiot, I _know_ you respect me. Merlin knows an' all. Don't matter if you mouth off in bed. I talk all sorts of wank."

"That you do," Merlin says, and Eggsy snorts.

Over breakfast, Eggsy makes a preposterous and terrible suggestion:

_"So I was thinkin' about what you said last night. And I thought. What if you wasn't Harry? I mean, for a bit."_

Three weeks later, that brings them to a street corner that is calculatedly near nobody's house, or the shop, or any address that is a known quantity for procuring gentlemen of negotiable affection. Verisimilitude be hanged, because Harry is not about to be arrested for solicitation and he is _not_ about to try explaining to the good men and women of the Metropolitan Police that what looks like two middle-aged men chatting up a boy whore is, in fact, a negotiated and consensual fantasy scenario.

Though Eggsy looks like he'd be worth it. No tailoring, nor any of his expensive chavwear, just skintight jeans and a white T-shirt stretched across his pectorals. The cool of the evening is setting in, the chill penetrating London's protective fug of air pollution, and his nipples are hard studs under the cotton.

The choreography is cliché, of course. He's leaning against a lamppost, for fuck's sake: hip cocked just so, features thrown into sharp relief by the cone of orange streetlight.

The cab pulls to the curb; Harry rolls down the rear passenger-side window. Eggsy contemplates the black void that replaces his own reflection, then saunters over. He leans down to talk and Harry stares at the hollow of his throat. 

"You lost, mate?"

"I think I've found what I'm looking for," Harry says easily. Eggsy gets in the cab without closing the door behind him.

"Six hundred," he says without being prompted. "For the night."

"My friend and I like to share," Harry says. Merlin turns his head, almost imperceptibly, from the driver's seat. 

"...A grand, then."

"Very well."

Eggsy shuts the door. "I'm Eggsy. What do I call you two?"

"Merlin," he says, and puts the cab into gear.

"Galahad."

A hotel would be a more convincing venue, for what this is, but the risks of an uncontrolled environment outweigh the benefits of an immersive scenario. Around the capital and beyond, Kingsman keeps a number of safehouses and homes for the agents' aliases, and fortunately the man who controls their surveillance is in the car with them. The luxurious Thameside apartment certainly has the same clean, impersonal edge that a hotel suite would.

Eggsy's been an incorrigible little shit the whole drive over. Full marks on his observational skills, of course. He noticed Harry looking at him, and where, so he spread himself out and crossed one ankle over the other knee, making the denim so taut he could almost hear it _creak_. Casually adjusted his T-shirt, briefly tugging it so tight it goes translucent over his chest. Harry is a ridiculous, adolescent mess of lust by the time the lift deposits them on the twelfth floor.

By the time they make it into the bedroom - Merlin already stripping, because he's the kind of pragmatic that'd rather be naked by the time he hits the mattress and knows his way around his own clothes - Harry feels feverish. He crowds Eggsy from behind, grasps his hip with one hand and pushes hard between his shoulders with the other; his hands fly out, grasping the end of the bed.

Harry tries to push his shirt up. The seam pops on the left-hand side almost immediately, and Harry just _goes_ with it, tearing the flimsy thing open to expose a bare back still scattered with the fading bruises of his last mission.

Eggsy gasps - then pushes his arse back against Harry's hips. He can feel the rough of the denim through two layers of finer fabric, chafing against the growing swell of his cock.

"He's _smirking_ ," Merlin observes, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he can take off his shoes and socks. "Not gonna take that, are you now, Galahad?"

"Absolutely not." He strokes his hands over Eggsy's ribs, then over his chest, tweaking a nipple just to hear another gasp. He hears someone else taking his voice for a test drive, permits it to happen: "We'll see how smug you are when you're being opened up. Ever taken two cocks in your arse before, Eggsy?"

"No," and he's whispering, as if he can't bear to speak over the echo of Harry's words.

"It's quite an intense experience." Harry thumbs open the button of his jeans, then eases down the zipper. He hooks his fingers into boxers and jeans and tugs the whole lot down to his ankles, dropping into a crouch to do it when he realises gravity alone isn't going to peel him out of his offensively tight jeans.

"Unforgettable, I don't think I flatter us by - Christ _almighty._ "

From his new vantage point he can see the flared black base of a plug nestled between the firm rounds of his arse cheeks, wide at the neck, specifically designed to hold him _open_.

Merlin gets up and stalks around the bed, shamelessly naked and half-hard, to investigate. He whistles low.

"Did think you were walkin' funny," he says, and flicks two fingers sharply against the centre of the base. Eggsy jolts and his feet slide apart in blatant invitation, right up until he's stopped by the shackle of his jeans around his ankles. 

"You gorgeous little slag," Harry whispers, marvelling, and Eggsy _keens_. "You must have had this in for hours. Did it hurt, Eggsy? Having this inside you, cold and fake, waiting to get filled with something _real_?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "Wan'ed summat in me. Couldn't wait."

Merlin bites off a low curse and circles back around, climbing like a large cat towards the pillows "Get your arse on the fuckin' bed."

Eggsy's never had trouble following orders. He crawls onto the duvet, kicking away his jeans and underwear and trainers along the way. Harry pulls off his socks. Eggsy looks over his shoulder to look at him and his eyes are dark.

"Eyes front, lad." Merlin gently cups a large hand around Eggsy's jaw, and Harry hears the wet sound and sees the slow drop of Eggsy's head as he takes his cock in. Merlin tilts his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

Harry steps close, his hands going to Eggsy's hips. He puts finger and thumb to the base of the toy, tugs it slowly, watches red slick skin _stretch_ around the swell of plug until it passes the point of most resistance. The damned thing is ungodly wide there, thicker than any man's cock, and the blood runs hot in Harry's veins when he thinks of Eggsy. Lying sprawled across his bed at home, fingering himself open to take it in. Sitting in the cab to get to their rendezvous point. Feeling it move inside him every time he moved so much as an inch against the lamppost. 

He fucks him shallowly, never quite letting his body swallow the thing up the way it wants to, and Eggsy squirms his hips and makes all kinds of guttural, muffled sounds that make Merlin's face twist in excruciated pleasure.

"You seem to be enjoying this," Harry says thoughtfully. No surprise there; the thing must be grazing his prostate on every pass, it's hardly too small to _miss_. "Maybe you don't need to be fucked, after all. I could make you come on this perfectly easily, couldn't I?"

Eggsy whines in desperate, nonverbal protest and rocks against Harry's torment. Finally he pulls off Merlin's prick with a filthy _pop_ , following by the wet slap of skin on skin as he takes over with one hand. 

"Don't want you to. Wanna come on your fuckin' _cocks_ , ha-" He seems to catch himself just in time, or it could just be a sound without other meaning. "Galahad, Merlin, fuckin' - _please_ \- I'll be good - "

"I know," Harry croons. "That's what you always want, I don't doubt. To be good. Such an obedient, beautiful _whore_ for us."

" _Yes_ ," Eggsy hisses, and Harry rewards him with a _deep_ grinding push of the plug into his body before starting at last to try pulling it out altogether. The hungry red mouth of his arsehole yawns wide around the plug, stretching and clinging, and then finally lets him draw it free. For a moment there's just a perfectly round 'o' of dark wet space that winks closed almost immediately - though it still takes in three fingers without the barest bit of resistance. Eggsy's buttocks clench and his prick, hanging hard and obscene between his legs, gives a desperate twitch.

"Me first," Merlin says over Eggsy's head, and then the bastard _smirks_ at him. "Might as well start with the main event, like."

"Don't be crass." But he does extract his fingers and lounge at Merlin's side, and _oh_ , it's just lovely up here. Eggsy's face looks blurry with pleasure, lips scarlet and wet, pupils huge. He's stroking Merlin slowly, now, bringing his foreskin up to pucker over the blunt head of his cock, then sliding it back down. When Harry settles, Eggsy reaches for his crotch and his hand stutters on the (clearly offensive) revelation that he's still fully dressed. 

Merlin cups Harry's cheek and kisses him. All lips, nothing but the teasing promise of tongue, but no less dizzying for that. It makes him feel so terribly needy. Somehow - despite being _thoroughly_ distracted - he manages to get his fly open and his erection pulled out of the slit in his boxers. He hears what he realises is Eggsy spitting on his hand and then it's _on_ him, the same slow firm pump, and he breaks the kiss to look down and see Eggsy with his weight on his elbows, both hands filled with cock and a look on his face like it's Christmas Day and he actually got everything he wanted for once.

"Please," he whispers, breaking over the word.

 _Almost_ enough. His desperation makes Harry's cock ache, and the sound of crinkling foil when Merlin retrieves a couple of condoms has him salivating like Pavlov's dog.

The next part is - not to denigrate its significance in any way - familiar. Eggsy likes being on top, likes bouncing on one hard cock while he sucks or _gets_ sucked. He likes feeling like he's in control. And he likes having that control taken from him. He particularly likes facing away from the man beneath him - especially when it's Merlin, because he can so easily rile him into pushing him down onto his face and pounding him from behind into a whimpering, writhing orgasm. This time, though, it's face to face. For a moment Harry frets about how eager he is, how _quick_ , but his hole still opens obscenely easily for Merlin's cock and they both groan as he sinks down.

Harry shifts close, his chest to Eggsy's back, one hand on his chest. He can feel his chest expand with each heavy breath; he can count his rapid heartbeats.

"How is he, Merlin?"

"Gorgeous. Fuckin' _tight_."

"Really, Eggsy? I'd not have expected that of you," Harry purrs in Eggsy's ear. "You're so _very_ good at what you do, after all. I suppose we're lucky you didn't just come here dripping another man's _spunk._ "

"Nnnn. No. Wouldn't do that. Jus' yours. Yours an' Merlin's. Don't want nothin' else, Harry."

No more Galahad, then, the fantasy abruptly cut to ribbons - but Harry finds that he's past caring. When Eggsy's wriggling on Merlin's hips and Harry's cock is nestling between the rounds of his arse cheeks, drooling with need, it feels astonishingly difficult to be anything but himself. And by now, it's...easier. When Eggsy has answered every word with moans and fat drops of precome, Harry no longer thinks he has anything to fret over.

"No? Good. Christ, but you're lovely." His tone goes low and honeyed, without Galahad's cooler control. "So beautiful, Eggsy. You take it so perfectly."

"And you could take more," Merlin murmurs, voice a low rumble. "Couldn't you, now?"

" _Fuck_ yes." The words burst from his mouth like he can't bear to keep them in. "Please."

Five painstaking minutes later he's replacing three wet, sore fingers with the head of his cock. Pushing himself into the wild, fluttering, clenching grasp of Eggsy's arse and feeling Merlin's thick prick _crushed_ against his own. Eggsy's barely moving any more, not trying to ride them, not trying to do anything but adjust and _breathe._ Merlin vocalises roughly on every breath, exhaling in low shuddering groans, and Harry pants into Eggsy's hair as he sinks home. 

(And it _is_ home. Right here.)

Eggsy comes with a startled cry - abs going into wild spasm under Harry's hand, head lolling onto his shoulder, a long streak of spunk almost hitting his own chin - the instant Merlin puts a hand on his cock. And then he's pliant, hips rolling weakly, wrung out and _still begging_ -

" - c'mon, fuck me, shit, I ain't never - "

\- and his lovers oblige him, because he asks so _nicely_. Neither of them dare to really thrust but Harry eases in and out, rocking into him, and the stimulation strokes across his nerve endings from all sides.

"Just look at you. Just made a filthy mess of yourself and already you're plumping up nicely. There's no end to what you've got to give us, Eggsy, is there?"

Eggsy's arse clasping around them in a fluttery embrace. The muscles in his back and arms, tensing themselves into the kind of sharp definition that classical sculptors demanded of their models, then relaxing under the slow stroke of a hand. Merlin's deep groans and low curses. He's unusually quiet and it gives Harry the sense of having an audience, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

"That's it. Take it, darling, we know you can. You've been dying for this, haven't you? You've been waiting so patiently to have this sluttish little hole of yours _stuffed full_."

"Yeah. Fuckin' _yes_ , Harry."

"Maybe next time we'll forgo the rubbers. Fuck your arse raw, leave you full of our spunk. Dripping with it."

"Where the _hell_ did this come from," Merlin mutters beneath them, sounding vaguely traumatised. Harry pulls back and then he _does_ thrust, plowing deep into Eggsy's body, sawing his prick against Merlin's and then he does it again, and again, until his balls are slapping heavily against Merlin's and Eggsy's a stiff, leaking mess in his fist.

"What do you think, mm? We'll push that plug back into your tired little arse, keep you wet for when we fancy another crack at you."

"Yes. Shit, _yes_ it, give it t'me - "

Merlin breaks first, thighs going rigid when he arches and comes on a winded _sweet mother of God_ , and Harry feels the dark rich sweetness of orgasm overtake him as Merlin's cock jerks against his.

They ease out of him - fractionally, gently - and Harry holds him upright as Merlin slides down the bed to take Eggsy's cock in his mouth and suckle him to a second climax. The tangle of bodies that follows is weary, and damp and sour-scented with sweat, and perfect.

"Put the plug back in," Eggsy mumbles eventually, and Merlin lets out an incredulous bark of laughter even as Harry reaches for the lube.

They've a little more of the night left in them.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time: Merlin POV! Fisting! Hopefully not another two weeks between updates, s i g h.


End file.
